


Pulling Away and Drawing Back In

by aykayem



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykayem/pseuds/aykayem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Stiles closes his eyes when he kissed, he found that he could imagine it being virtually anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

If Stiles closes his eyes when he kissed, he found that he could imagine it being virtually anyone.

Lydia.

Lydia, still.

Actually, mostly Lydia. But then, for a brief flicker of a moment: Derek.

And then his hands aren't on his companion's waist any longer, but at a jawline, slowly sliding back in short, dark hair. His grip is tightening, and then he's moaning softly against plush lips, relishing the give in them, the way they part against his own-

And then Danny pulls away.

"Look, Stiles. I get it. You've got… I don't know, unresolved issues. But I'm going to be honest: this is getting really weird. Weird even for you, and that's saying something."


	2. Chapter 2

Things had been awkward. Danny was pretty sure it was his fault, in a way, but wasn't apologetic. He could practically taste the tension in the air as he glanced around the room. At least with himself and Stiles. It wasn't that things hadn't gone well, it was just that things really hadn't gone well. He was pretty sure he hadn't gone on a first date that had gone so quickly downhill in years. In some ways, it was all right; in some ways, he wished it hadn't happened that way. Sure, Stiles was a bit of a freak, in that he rarely knew how to keep his mouth shut, and sometimes he asked stupid questions. But at the same time, he wasn't that bad.

He was just Stiles.

\---

Typical day in Chemistry. Harris was being a jerk to Stiles, Scott was being his usual self - oblivious to virtually everything. Jackson was sitting somewhere else.

Maybe not so typical.

Something was up in Beacon Hills, and everyone knew it but him. Or rather, everyone else knew the details of it, and was apparently operating on a need-to-know basis, which precluded him. It always precluded him. Danny was starting to get a complex, even when they included him on the fringes. He knew how to do things, where to look - in the end, he was involved on some level, but never the level he wanted to be involved on. He didn't think it was really that much to ask that someone give him the smallest hint of where to start looking. It wasn't that he was incapable; it was more that figuring out what Scott and his friends were up to was like finding a needle in a haystack. Or wolfsbane, as the case seemed to be.

And now that Jackson was involved in the whole thing, it was just _frustrating_.

"Hey. Pst. Danny."

He twisted in his chair what little it took to see Stiles just behind him, leaning forward on his arms with a look of wide-eyed innocence that could never bode well.

"You're not going to ask me if I think you're attractive again, are you?" Danny simply asked, giving Stiles the sort of look that spoke of thinking someone was an absolute moron. If Stiles noticed, it didn't show on his face.

"No! What? No! Definitely not," came the flustered reply, hissed to keep Harris from noticing their conversation. "No, I wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out tonight."

"Is Miguel going to be there again?" He deadpanned.

Stiles opened and closed his mouth a few times at that point, trying to come up with some plausible explanation. Finally, he wet his lips - Danny found himself following the gesture with his eyes - and shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Why, is that, like…a make or break thing? I can totally call him up, and see if he can come over, if that's the deal, but I was sort of just th-"

"Stilinski!" Harris announced over the din of the classroom. "Something you want to share?"

"Nope," Stiles cut himself off, forcing a smile to his face. It looked plastic, and pained. For a moment, Danny almost felt sorry for the guy.

Ten minutes later, he passed a simple note back to Stiles: _I'll be there_.

\---

And that's how they got here. Stiles' bedroom. The sheriff has left already, having something he needed to do; their lab reports are left abandoned on Stiles' desk; their shirts have been discarded and dumped unceremoniously on the floor. Danny has Stiles pinned to the bed, hands above his head for a moment or two as they exchange heated kisses, licking their way into the other's mouth with quiet noises of effort and want. Stiles manages to get his hands free after a bit of struggling - Danny doesn't offer much by way of restraint, letting him go easily - and large hands plunge into Danny's hair to hold him close for a deeper kiss; his thigh moves to press between Danny's legs, drawing a groan from him.

"God, want you so much-" Stiles mutters against Danny's mouth, nipping at his lips, his eyes still firmly closed. The words dissolve into a moan, a loud groan of pleasure that sounds almost like " _Derek_."

Danny pulls away.

"Look, Stiles. I get it. You've got… I don't know, unresolved issues. But I'm going to be honest: this is getting really weird. Weird even for you, and that's saying something," he tells him, mouth kiss-bruised and dark, eyes half-lidded with desire and something else he doesn't want to acknowledge. He's not thinking about it, just like Stiles isn't thinking about him. At least that much is obvious.

"What?"

He pushes himself the rest of the way up, sitting back on his heels so Stiles can sit up along with him, looking like a deer in headlights. All wide eyes, and plush lips, and flushed cheeks. It's almost enough to make Danny forget about the fact that Stiles is calling him by someone else's name, and just go for it.

But he doesn't. "Did you seriously call me over for this?"

"Uh…" Stiles starts, looking away. If Danny doesn't know better, he would hazard that Stiles is actually embarrassed. "Yeah. Sort of."

"So we weren't going to do our lab report?" Again? He doesn't add.

"No. No, we weren't. I mean, eventually, sure!" Stiles quickly adds, swallowing thickly. "But uh. Not immediately, no."

"Right," Danny replies dryly, staring at him. Stiles is fidgeting still, plucking at his bedding nervously, eyes moving everywhere but at his companion. He inhales after a few long moments of awkward silence, wherein nothing happens except heavy breathing caused by their last activities; then Stiles tries to roll off the bed, and Danny gives an inward sigh as he reaches out to stop him. The way Stiles blinks at him is enough for Danny to lean back in, crushing their mouths together again, and it's right back to where they were.

Stiles is quieter this time, keeping his opinions and thoughts to himself instead of sharing the way he did before, and Danny finds that he doesn't wholly mind the quiet as he works open-mouthed kisses down Stiles' chest. Somewhere down the line, they lose the rest of their clothing, and Danny lets himself drift off into the realm of fantasy. No more than Stiles is, it seems; he's pretty well aware that he still isn't the one Stiles is thinking of, even as they find the lube Stiles has stashed away in a drawer and set about making each other feel better than they ever could with kisses alone. It's when Danny mentally draws back a little, detaching the little noises Stiles makes with every movement, every thrust from him, that he realises he could lose himself as easily in thoughts of someone else.

He can't help the way he pictures someone else beneath him; he can't help that his thoughts drift briefly to Miguel, Stiles' supposed cousin. It's not his fault 'Miguel', though he very much doubts that's his name, or even that he's Stiles' cousin, has abs you could legitimately wash clothing on. It's not his fault he thinks he knows just the way that he could get that perpetual bitchface to crack; Danny is Jackson's best friend, after all, and you don't get that title without learning a thing or two along the way.

It's nothing personal, even as both of them hit their climax - Stiles first, with a cry and nails raking down Danny's back, and then Danny not long after that - though neither of them is thinking of the other. Both manage not to let it be known audibly, but they know all the same. It's not hard to figure out, judging by the renewed flush on Stiles' cheeks, and the way he buries his face against the crook of Danny's neck as things wind back down, as both of them let their breathing return to normal and their heartbeats slow back down.

Even as they clean themselves back up, hastily pulling their clothes back on before Stiles' dad gets home again, they avoid the other's eyes. It's almost awkward, in that way that things would inevitably be, given the circumstances; Danny imagines that tomorrow will be normal again, and Stiles will be harassing him yet again for reasons unknown.

"So that part in the middle." Stiles finally broaches, clearing his throat and raking a hand back over what little hair he has. "Let's just…not talk about that, okay?"

"Sure," Danny replies, pulling his shirt on. Stiles seems to take that as good enough, even offering a brief - exceedingly brief, if Danny is honest, and he almost feels bad for not being all there - grin. 

In the end, they never do work on their lab report.


End file.
